The Reason
by Vivihanna
Summary: Set in the Wall-verse. Sylar's latest hobby yields some explosive results, both bad and good. *Petlar*


**Title:** The Reason  
><strong>Characters:<strong> Sylar/Peter Petrelli  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG  
><strong>Disclaimer:<strong> Heroes belongs to NBC. No money is being made, just for fun.  
><strong>Contains:<strong> Slash, angst, fluff.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> Set in the Wall-verse. Sylar's latest hobby yields some explosive results, both bad and good.

**AN:** This was my first short story (and first Petlar) that I had ever written.

It was a day like all the others in the deserted city, boring and uneventful. Sylar had already gone through several different hobbies trying to keep from going insane. From billiards to chess nothing was a challenge because of his intuitive aptitude. Not to mention, eventually his usually optimistic opponent would get tired of losing and give up playing. Even though he loved to see Peter get frustrated and run his hands through his soft bangs while shooting him annoyed, determined looks, Sylar was afraid eventually he would get fed up and not talk to him again. He couldn't chance that.

Sylar's latest solo adventures involved dynamite, lots of it.

The routine was simple. First Sylar would scout the building for anything of value and then he would tactically place the explosives depending on what he wanted to accomplish. He turned it into a game, setting challenges for himself. His most successful attempt ended in all the east side of the main street falling in a domino effect, one building after another. He would never forget the look of shock on Peter's face when he arrived to see what all the noise was.

This new hobby not only helped pass the time, it also made Sylar feel powerful again. The adrenaline rush he got when he set off the detonator and tons of bricks and concrete crashed under his will was indescribable. He felt like a god when he made the earth tremble beneath him.

Today's target was an old hotel off the main street and Sylar was ahead of schedule by about thirty minutes. Peter had invited him to a special dinner, whatever that meant, and he didn't want to be late. Safely situated on top of the building across the street, he began to set off the charges.

"Boom," Sylar whispered to himself. A mischievous grin spread across his face as he watched with satisfaction and fascination as the building began to fall like a sandcastle. He then peered through his binoculars to get an even closer look at the chaos. He spotted something moving near the side of the building. It was Peter.

Sylar quickly picked up his radio and prayed that Peter was carrying his. "Peter! Get out of there now! The building is coming down!"

It appeared that Peter had heard him because the empath began running.

It was too late though, Sylar watched as the rubble and debris devoured his friend.

"Dammit, Peter." Sylar's eyes began to water as he made his way down to the street. His thoughts raced as he tried to remain calm. "There's nothing to worry about, this is just a dream and you can't die in a dream." He kept mumbling to himself over and over.

When Sylar arrived at street level he rushed over and began digging. The dust was just beginning to settle and luckily it appeared that none of the huge chunks of the building fell near Peter. He soon uncovered Peter's hand and felt for a pulse, there was one but it was very weak. He began digging even faster and more frantically, if that was even possible. His mind was still reeling, if something were to happen to Peter he would never forgive himself. He soon finished uncovering him, only some minor dust remained. He was breathing and to this Sylar sighed in relief. It appeared the worst of his injuries were some small scratches and light bruises. He wondered if he should move him but decided against it. He took off his jacket and placed it under Peter's head as a pillow.

"Peter, wake up." Sylar shook him gently but there was no response. Taking Peter's hand into his, he sat down to wait beside him. He softly rubbed his thumbs over the top of Peter's hand while worrying thoughts ran through his mind.

_This is all my fault._ Sylar's eyes began to water again. _If only I had been content with reading near him while he worked on the wall. That damn wall._ He lied to himself; he was _very_ content with staying by Peter's side while he pounded on the wall. There was another reason he couldn't stay around him every day, he was just too stubborn to admit it.

Sylar leaned in close and took one palm and placed it on Peter's cheek. He scanned his features thoughtfully. _You really are an angel aren't you?_ A tear rolled down his cheek and fell onto Peter's jacket. _After all I've done, you are the only one that believes in me._ He checked his pulse again, it was steady this time.

Sylar then put his ear to Peter's heart; he had no idea exactly what he was listening for though. He couldn't hear anything at first, then he felt why, there was a small box in Peter's inside breast pocket. He unzipped the empath's jacket and retrieved the box, it was about two inches wide, six inches tall, and half an inch thick. It read 'To: Gabriel' in Peter's handwriting on the front. He debated on whether to open it. Well it was addressed to him and it might give a clue as to why Peter had shown up unexpectedly, he figured.

_Was he going to surprise me, is that why he didn't use his radio to find me?_ This revelation only added to the pile of guilt that Sylar was already carrying about the collateral damage. Deciding not to ruin his surprise, he sat the small box to the side. He then lied down beside the shorter man and again he put his ear to Peter's chest to listen. Nothing out of the ordinary could be heard so why wasn't he waking up?

Sylar lied there still and continued to listen to the soothing heartbeat of his only companion. In a way it was comforting but it couldn't keep his worries from eating at him. _What if he doesn't wake up? What if I've lost the only friend I've ever had?_ His eyes began to water again and tears started soaking into Peter's shirt. He tried to push those thoughts aside; he needed to stay strong for both of them.

Sylar shifted a little and got comfortable beside Peter, keeping one ear on his chest and his arm draped over him, holding the empath protectively. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the beat. All he could do now was wait. He was so emotionally drained that after a few minutes he fell asleep.

XXX

A little over an hour had passed when Peter began to wake.

"What's that noise? Sounds like a freight train," Peter groggily whispered as everything came into focus. Lifting his head up, he glanced around and then down to the weight on his chest. The sound of Sylar's snoring greeted him. He was confused at first and then remembered what happened right before he passed out. Still, this did not explain why Sylar was cuddled up to him and his shirt was wet where the other man's head was laying.

Brushing his bangs aside, Peter lied his head back down and stared up into the sky as he tried to comprehend what on earth could have occurred while he was unconscious. This wasn't like Sylar at all; he had never shown any physical affection to Peter the three years they had been trapped in here together. They'd have deep conversations and heart-to-heart talks but the few times that Peter hugged him, something that came naturally to a Petrelli, Sylar would get so shy and try to escape from the embrace as fast as he could. So now to awaken to this was quite a surprise to say the least.

From what Peter could gather he had been unconscious for about an hour and a half according to his watch. Also from what he could guess his shirt was wet because… Sylar had been crying over him? That can't be right. This was the only logical explanation but somehow Peter still doubted it.

"Were you worried about me?" Peter said softly as he gently stroked Sylar's hair. A snore was the only reply he received. Peter smiled as he thought more about the situation. If this were true then he had tamed the big, bad boogeyman. In a way, he had fixed him. Or perhaps he was getting ahead of himself and blowing this out of proportion. His optimism sometimes got him carried away.

Sylar then started to stir.

Peter wasn't sure what to do; he didn't know if Sylar would freak out if he knew Peter had seen him like this or what. Not to mention Peter's curiosity was gnawing at him, he wanted to see what he was up to. In a split second decision he closed his eyes and pretended to still be unconscious.

Sylar blinked a few times then yawned as he lifted his head up to look at Peter's face. "Peter, are you awake yet?" He nudged at him gently. Looking at his watch he started to get even more worried. He sat up and tried shaking Peter some more.

"If you don't wake up, I'm not sure what I'll do." Sylar tilted his head and a smirk began to spread across his face. "I guess when I break out of here I'll go and have me a little brain buffet, starting with Parkman. Although I'd guess his brain is mostly filled with jello, pudding, or perhaps even mayo. You don't want that to happen, _do you_?"

There was no response, even though Peter wanted to smile at that bluff. Sylar never really was good at lying; Peter could always make him crack up when he was trying to seriously tell a fib.

The grin faded as fast as it appeared and Sylar sighed. The silence was unbearable. He took Peter's hand into his and began humming.

Peter could recognize the song and he hoped that Sylar would not begin serenading him. Sylar had many talents but singing was not one of them. Peter found this out when they had gotten drunk and tried karaoke a couple of weeks ago.

"Just in case you never wake up, there's something I need to tell you." Sylar lifted Peter's hand, letting the back of it rest against his cheek. "I know this is corny as hell but I'm not very good with words."

Peter listened with rising curiosity.

"_I'm sorry that I hurt you…_" Well Sylar did it, he started to sing and Peter prayed to God to give him the strength to keep from cracking up.

"_It's something I must live with every day, and all the pain I put you through…_"

Peter heard the sincerity in Sylar's voice and felt it with his empathy. The urge to laugh faded away and he began to feel guilty. He wasn't supposed to be hearing this.

"_I wish that I could take it all away, and be the one who catches all your tears…_"

Peter began to feel wetness on the hand Sylar was holding to his cheek and he heard quiet sniffles. This started a chain reaction and Peter had to force his eyes to keep from watering.

"_That's why I need you to hear…_" Sylar's singing was a little louder at this part. He cleared his throat, wiped his eyes and leaned in close to the side of Peter's face.

"_I found a reason for me, to change who I used to be…_" These verses were sang softly, almost a whisper in Peter's ear.

Peter's heart sank and he wasn't sure how long he could keep pretending to be unconscious. The tears were so close to escaping.

"_A reason to start over new…_" Sylar moved his head from the side of Peter's to the front, two inches from his face.

Peter could feel Sylar's warm breath on him. His heart began to race.

"_And the reason is you…_" Sylar moved in and gave the empath a soft, gentle kiss.

Without thinking, Peter returned the kiss. He finally let the tears escape down the side of his cheeks as he put his hand on the back of Sylar's neck and pulled him closer, deepening the kiss.

For a split second Sylar paused with shock but quickly pushed that feeling aside. This was the first time in a long time that he truly felt happy and he wasn't going to let his insecurities ruin it. He put his hand behind Peter's head, running his fingers through his soft hair. He never wanted this moment to end.

They took turns nipping and sucking on each other's lips tenderly as their heartbeats sped in unison.

As the kiss came to an end, Peter dared to open his eyes, not really sure what to expect. Sylar was still leaning in close, looking down at him with an expression of shocked curiosity as if he were waiting for Peter to say something. Still a little breathless, Peter finally said, "You're a pretty good kisser," and watched as a confident grin appeared across the taller man's face.

"I wasn't kissing you; I was trying to revive you," Sylar stated, trying to keep a straight face.

Peter laughed quietly. "Giving mouth-to-mouth like that will either get you sued or molested."

"Well, I certainly hope you won't _sue_ me." Sylar gave him an innocent look and Peter countered with a mischievous grin.

Sylar helped the other man to his feet and then started to dust him off. "Let me know if you feel dizzy or anything."

Peter noticed the gift box beside him and picked it up. "Happy three year anniversary, Gabriel." He handed it over with a smile.

Sylar began to unwrap it. "Thank you Peter, but you didn't have to." The box opened to reveal a beautiful bookmark with a silk tassel on the end. It read 'Gabriel' in gold calligraphy with angel wings as the background. "Did you make this yourself? It's wonderful."

"Yes, in my spare time I've learned my way around Photoshop and a laminator." Peter brushed his bangs back with his hand. "I'm glad you like it." He was then ambushed into an embrace; Sylar wrapped his arms around his neck, their cheeks touched and Peter responded by hugging him around the waist.

"Thanks," Sylar whispered.

"Anything for you," Peter whispered in return. "Now, how about that special dinner I promised you?" Pulling back, he took Sylar by the hand and started to lead him toward their apartment.

"That sounds great. I'm starving." As they were walking, Sylar held up his new bookmark and stared at it in appreciation. A realization hit him and he frowned. "Peter, I don't have a present to give to you in return."

"Don't worry about it. I'm sure after we eat you can think of _something_."

Sylar then let out a surprised squeak as Peter smacked his ass playfully.


End file.
